Masochist
by Boussole
Summary: The worse it gets, the more you learn to get used to it. The more you get used to it, the more you start to like it... (A Butler one-shot interspersed with lines of narrative. ButlerHolly.) [Warnings: Violence, masochism, implied suicide.]


Masochist

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This is for all you Butler/Holly shippers. I know you're out there, shipping it quietly...

This was based on a poem I wrote (all of which the italicised lines are from), which was based on a dream I had.

**Disclaimer**: I forgot to include this last time...I'm such a horrible person. Okay, I don't own any of the characters in this. I also don't own the song _Mr__ Brightside_ by The Killers or the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary; I just used quotes from both of them. I own only the concept of obsessive!masochistic!Butler (unless someone's already written it), the fic, and the lines of eight lines of narrative.

(Author's Note: I don't think I captured Butler's character well enough in this. I tried to show how this is an unseen side of him, something he hides, but it didn't quite work. Ah, well. If you think Butler is severely OOC, please let me know.)

* * *

_"I just can't look  
__It's killing me  
And taking control  
Jealousy..."_

_"But it's just the price I pay  
Destiny is calling me  
Open up my eager eyes  
'Cause I'm Mr Brightside..."_

-From _Mr__ Brightside_, by The Killers

* * *

**Masochism**: a sexual perversion characterised by pleasure in being subjected to pain or humiliation especially by a love object. 

-From Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary

* * *

It's Artemis. Of course it is. It's him that Holly truly cares about, that she loves. Not me. Oh no, who ever remembers Butler? No, I'm just the one stranding there in the background. No one remembers. No one cares. Hell, she cares about _Juliet_ more than she cares about me. I'm only there to comfort Holly about Artemis, nothing more. 

_He picks up the knife._

Can't she see I love her? No one notices, not Holly, not Artemis, not even Juliet – Juliet, who knows me better than anyone. I spend more time thinking about my sweet Holly than I do breathing, but no one knows. I truly care about her, but she's so blissfully unaware. All her love is given to Artemis – who will never love her back. Why doesn't she turn to me? Why can't she think of me as more than just a friend – no, an acquaintance? Why don't I matter to her?

_He slashes his arm._

There is no respite. Every waking moment (and every moment of my dreams, too) is saturated with memories, sweet painful memories. Memories of being with her, my perfect Holly. There was never a time when we were alone together, but I loved her from afar. It's an addiction. I can't stop thinking about her, loving her, craving her, but I don't want to. Every heartbeat is a reminder that she'll never love me; it's as if my heart is pumping venom along with my blood – it's killing me, but at the same time it's what keeps me going.

_He rips the wound open wider._

No self- pity, only pain. I won't "get over" her; I'll courageously remain before the face of the storm of her rejection. Then, once I commit suicide, she'll feel remorse and guilt at last. She'll shun her love for Artemis, knowing it was what killed the one who truly loved her. I will show her I can endure any pain. I will slowly waste away, agonisingly and helplessly.

I will bleed to death for her.

_He licks the blood._

I shiver, relishing my own weakness. What is pain; what is pleasure? Where is the line between? There is no line. Those who are strong corrupt pain to create pleasure. I am strong. I will be strong for my Holly.

For there is never such a thing as truly defeating weakness. There is only accepting it, embracing it, _being_ it.

Stand tall and unmoving, and you will neither submit to nor conquer your pain – you will become it.

_He savours the taste._

Only a corpse feels no pain. I'll show her I'm not dead. Though she is nothing but pain to me, I love her – and thus I love the pain. It is everything. I have never known so powerful a feeling, a feeling that forces me to feel more awake, more alive, than anything else. To stem the flow of pain would mean being weak. I must prove to her I'm strong, that I will endure.

And I will.

_He slits his wrist._

She has saved me from the claws of death twice before. If I send myself back there, she will come for me again. My hazel-eyed angel would never leave me to die. Yet how far am I willing to go to win her love? Where is the line?

There is no line. I will do anything. Then she will know what I have gone through just for her. I will give myself up to Death; I will subject myself to pain beyond imagining. She will see, and she will know that I love her.

_He flaunts the blood._

I'm ready. I'll go to Hell and beyond for Holly. I'll prove to her I am a true man – instead of hiding my weakness, I accept it. Instead of cowering before pain; I embrace it. I'll show her. I am strong enough to derive pleasure from pain. I am strong enough to love her even though she means nothing but pain to me now.

I am strong enough to declare my love for the pain Holly causes me.

_He laughs._


End file.
